


In the Long Ago

by Damerel



Series: In the Long Ago [1]
Category: Numb3rs, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Episode: s03e24 The Janus List, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damerel/pseuds/Damerel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover fic.  On Atlantis, Lorne learns about the events of <i>The Janus List</i>.</p><p>Spoilers for <i>Numb3rs</i> episodes <i>The Janus List</i> and <i>Trust Metric</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Long Ago

There’d been no clues.  He hadn’t had even the slightest intuition to warn him of impending disaster.  One minute he’d been overseeing the unloading of supplies from the _Daedalus,_ the next a squeaky clean lieutenant he’d never seen before was saluting him rigidly and informing him that he was to report to Colonel Caldwell right away, _sir_.  
  
Passing his tablet over to Coughlin to continue checking off the manifest, Evan followed the lieutenant towards the command offices.  He was so distracted by the sharpness of the creases in said lieutenant’s uniform that it took him a couple of paces to realise that two _Daedalus_ Marines had fallen in behind him.  And suddenly the lieutenant’s newly-minted look wasn’t so funny but was instead a clear message that nobody from Atlantis had been trusted by Caldwell to deliver this message to Colonel Sheppard’s second-in-command.  
  
Evan knew that later he’d feel the sting of humiliation over the number of people who saw him being marched through the corridors, but for now he was too busy trying to work out what the hell this could be about.  And wondering where Colonel Sheppard was because he’d give anything right now to hear that lazy voice wondering just what Major Lorne had done this time - used the wrong colour pen to sign off the last bunch of AL/27b forms, perhaps.  Evan knew he’d done nothing wrong, unless it was to allow himself to become very slightly corrupted by Colonel Sheppard’s attitude toward the ironing of uniforms, so all he could think was that somebody had slipped something forbidden onto the _Daedalus’s_ requisition and he’d not noticed and signed off on it.  Which meant that yes, he was ultimately responsible and might well be in line for an interview without coffee but nothing more serious than that if it turned out Dr McKay had gotten impatient and felt that his research was more important than some pettifogging law about smuggling.  
  
The panic started when they reached the area outside Dr Weir’s office, because Colonel Sheppard was standing there with Dr Weir and the look on Sheppard’s face – and Weir’s for that matter – was not good.  So not good.  Colonel Sheppard looked frustrated and, so far as it was possible to tell with him, angry, while Dr Weir had that pinched look she wore whenever she was forced to make a decision she deemed ethically wrong but ultimately necessary.  Neither of them said a word as Lt Irons-with-intent opened the door and announced him.  
  
Colonel Caldwell was sitting behind Dr Weir’s desk, and once Evan saw Colonel Caldwell’s grey eyes, looking more alien now than they’d ever done when he’d had that Goa’uld in him, thoughts of Colonel Sheppard and Dr Weir fled.  
  
“Major Lorne reporting, sir.”  He came to attention, giving the salute that was so rarely needed here in Atlantis.  
  
Caldwell left him at attention a shade too long, and Evan’s unease intensified even further.  
  
“At ease,” he said at last.  “Sit down, Major.”  
  
Evan sat down opposite him.  The two Marines who’d escorted him here were stationed in the room, one on either side of the door.  At least he still had his side-arm.  Things couldn’t be _that_ bad if he hadn’t been relieved of it.  
  
“What is the nature of your relationship with FBI Agent Colby Granger?”  
  
And _fuck_ – things really _could_ be that bad.  How could they have found out?  He hadn’t been back to Earth for two months, and they hadn’t had any contact beyond exchanging a few completely innocuous emails as part of the regular data burst.  
  
“We served alongside each other in Afghanistan, and have kept in touch since as friends, sir,” he said.  
  
“When did you meet?  How did you meet?”  
  
Evan kept it to the bare minimum, outlining the mission in Afghanistan that had first brought him into official contact with Colby.  The night on the beach on Hawaii, the furtive blow job that had taught Evan why sane people did not have sex on the beach because sand got _everywhere,_ didn’t count.  Not just because confessing to it was obviously career suicide, but because he hadn’t even known Colby’s name then.  
  
In response to questioning, he told Caldwell about the way the smartass army captain had kept crossing paths with him in the mess tent and that they’d ended up hanging out despite the whole air force / army thing.  He wasn’t sure whether Caldwell’s growing irritation was more at a zoomie – or airhead, as Colby insisted on calling him - voluntarily spending time with a grunt, or the fact that Evan’s answers obviously weren’t giving him what he was looking for.  
  
“How many other friends from back then have you kept in touch with?”  
  
“Three or four, sir, along with those I worked with at SGC.”  Christmas cards  counted as in touch, right?  
  
“So why keep in touch with Granger?  Was that your decision, or his?”  
  
“Just one of those things that happens sometimes, sir; we exchanged a few emails, as I did with other colleagues, and it was just easy to stay in contact with him being in LA and my family being in San Francisco.”  
  
Evan’s ability to provide clear and mainly truthful answers made it easier to fight down the panic that had been clawing through him.  And as he did so, he began to realise there was something weird going on.  He had no experience of this sort of interview from either side but he would have expected that by now there’d be a charge of conduct unbecoming, instead of these inexorable, never-ending questions about how many emails he’d sent, how many Granger had sent, what email addresses had been used, whose idea it had been for Lorne first to visit Granger, how often he visited him, what they did on those occasions, whether Granger had ever visited him in Colorado, and so on and so on ad nauseam.  Even in his confusion over what was going on, he knew this was bad news – very bad news.  There was a cold anger in Caldwell that kept Evan completely on his guard, composed and careful.  
  
At length – and it was, according to Evan’s best guess, more than two hours since he’d first marched into the room – Caldwell fell silent and pushed his chair back.  Though that took him out of Evan’s direct line of sight, Evan was certain that his eyes never left Evan’s face.  
  
“You’re probably wondering what this is all about, Major,” he said at last.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  Evan kept his eyes fixed on the wall directly in front of him.  
  
“Colby Granger has been charged with spying on the United States for the Chinese Government.  He’s pleading guilty as charged.”  
  
The room started to swim as Evan’s gaze jumped to Caldwell’s face.  It was only the calculation in Caldwell’s grey eyes that kept him steady.  
  
“There must be some mistake, sir,” he said.  “Colby – he risked his life fighting for his country in Afghanistan.”   _And he wouldn’t_ do _that,_ but even in his shock he knew argument from emotion wouldn’t sway Caldwell.  
  
“There’s been no mistake, Major.  So what I need to find out is if you’re compromised too.”  
  
Evan couldn’t help it – he swallowed.  He… this… God, yesterday all he’d had to worry about was getting the life sucked out of him by the Wraith and suddenly he was being suspected of betraying his country, his family, the Air Force, Atlantis.  
  
“No, sir,” he said, ramrod straight in his chair.  “I am not.”  
  
Caldwell’s sharp, hostile eyes assessed him for the longest minutes of Evan’s life, and that included the time on M6G-549 when that giant squid-like thing had been using all of its very many tentacles to check him out as a potential mate.  
  
“I’m not entirely convinced, Major,” he said at least, sounding bizarrely pleasant about it.  “I think you haven’t been quite truthful with me.  Luckily for you, Colonel Sheppard, Colonel Edwards, General O’Neill and Dr Weir appear to think very highly of your loyalty and your commonsense.  And your financials haven’t thrown up any red flags.”  
  
Evan swallowed, again.  God, Colby, what the hell was going on?  This was all upside down and backwards and yeah, Evan thought things about his country were screwed up at times but he’d never do anything like that.  And he knew Colby wouldn’t either.  Knew it as well as he knew the man, which after five years of fighting alongside one another, of hiding what they had from assholes like Caldwell, and loving one another, was pretty damn well.  
  
“Perhaps you’ve been tapped for information by Granger.  Maybe you’ve inadvertently let things slip that you shouldn’t over a few beers or through trying to impress an old Service friend.”  
  
Evan’s head was shaking even as Caldwell said it.  The only place he tried to impress Colby was in bed – or wherever they happened to be at the time – because inter-Service rivalry never died and it was a matter of pride to demonstrate that zoomies were better than grunts in the sack.  But that was all.  Colby never asked, never hinted, never pushed about anything to do with Evan’s deployment even when Evan had to cancel leave with little or no notice due to emergencies such as Dr Parrish being held hostage by sentient plants which had developed a crush on Colonel Sheppard.  
  
“No, sir,” he snapped out.  “Agent Granger understands military protocol.  He’s never asked where I’m stationed, and I’ve never told him.”  And he was screwed on two fronts now if Caldwell picked up on his subconscious self-betrayal with that choice of language.  
  
“Do you know Dwayne Carter?”  
  
“I knew him out in Afghanistan,” Evan said, his head spinning at the change of tack, “but I haven’t seen him or had any contact with him since coming back.”  
  
“Did you know that Granger and Carter have kept in contact?”  
  
“No, sir.”  But it surprised him that they had; he’d have thought Colby wouldn’t have been able to get away quickly enough from Carter and his creepy insistence that Colby owed him.  Evan never had worked out if Carter had been in love with Colby or just with the idea that Colby owed him everythingand so could deny him nothing.  
  
“All right, Major.  You’re relieved of duties and barred from gate travel until further notice.”  
  
Evan was on his feet, saluting, but he didn’t know how he’d got there because his legs were numb.  All of him was numb.  
  
The numbness faded slightly when he found Colonel Sheppard leaning against the railings outside Dr Weir’s office.  
  
“Walk with me, Major,” he said.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
They walked in silence until they got back to Evan’s quarters, and it was clear that Colonel Sheppard expected to come in with him.  
  
Evan found himself standing somewhat helplessly in the middle of his room.  He had no idea how the day that had started so normally – started well, even, with the delivery of delights such as coffee and C4 - had gone so spectacularly wrong.  Relieved of duties?  Caldwell might as well have said he was guilty and would be going back on the _Daedalus_ to face trial.  The only way he might be able to convince him that he wasn’t lying about the spying thing would be to tell him the truth about the other thing, and that way he’d just be facing a different sort of a trial and discharge.  Which was still better than facing the death penalty, his mind helpfully supplied, and that’s when his knees threatened to buckle.  
  
Colonel Sheppard was already sprawling in Evan’s chair, so he lowered himself to the bed.  Because Colby – what the hell had happened?  What had Colby done that could have ended up like this?  He was the last person Evan would ever suspect of being a traitor; he made loyalty into an art form, annoyingly so at times.  And he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ believe that the man he knew could come to this end, disgraced and vilified and possibly executed like the worst kind of criminal all because of some stupid, stupid mistake that someone had made.  
  
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Colonel Sheppard asked.  
  
Evan shook his head, confused and miserable.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “They say Colby’s a spy, but he’s not, sir – I know he’s not.”  
  
“Colby?”  
  
Evan gestured impatiently.  “Colby Granger.  We served together in Afghanistan, then he joined the FBI and I went to SGC.  We’ve stayed friends.”  
  
“You ever think he could be your friend and still be a spy?”  
  
Evan’s head flew up and he stared at Colonel Sheppard.  “ _No, sir,”_ he bit out.  
  
Sheppard shrugged.  “I’m just saying that the two don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”  
  
 _“No, sir.”_  
  
Sheppard let it go, lounging to his feet in the way that initially had driven Evan mad but that he now found he liked so much more than the alternative, all crisp salutes and ‘at ease’ and ‘relieved of duties’.  Evan got to his feet; however much lounging might go on, Colonel Sheppard was still his CO.  
  
“I’ll talk to Caldwell,” Sheppard said.  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Evan said, and to his dismay his voice cracked slightly on the words.  
  
“Well who else is going to do my paperwork?  Cadman?” Colonel Sheppard raised an eyebrow.  “I do have to submit something occasionally, not just charred scraps.”  
  
Evan simply nodded as Sheppard left.  He was grateful, more grateful than he could express that Sheppard was going in to bat for him.  Which only made him think about Colby all over again.  What about Eppes?  That team of his wouldn’t have thrown him to the wolves, surely; not the team Colby talked about with such pride and fondness.  Eppes would have stood up for his agent.  And David, definitely.  There was no way that David would have stood by and watched Colby be railroaded like this.  But he guessed when it was Homeland Security involved, a few ordinary FBI agents couldn’t do much.  
  
  
He didn’t go to the mess hall that evening.  He didn’t intend to face anybody until he was back on duty and it was clear that it had all been some typical military screw-up, as he knew the scientists would see it.  He wasn’t so sure how the rest of the military would view it, but he had Colonel Sheppard’s clear support as well as the authority to order extra training sessions with Ronon for anybody who looked at him sideways, so he would find a way back from the public humiliation.  As long as Colonel Sheppard prevailed, of course; what if Caldwell still thought he was guilty?  He evidently knew that something was off.  Evan had always been happy to have Caldwell’s instincts on his side in battle but not so much now he was the enemy.  
  
Instead of eating, he spent the evening pacing round his quarters, wondering if he was going to get shipped back to Earth tomorrow and what would happen to him then.  If he came under real suspicion as a spy and there was no other way out, he knew he’d have to come clean about him and Colby, and the consequences of that just didn’t bear thinking about.  
  
And whatever mess Colby had ended up in didn’t bear thinking about either, but Evan couldn’t stop himself.  He wondered how he was, and where he was, trying not to think of him locked up somewhere, despised by everyone.  At least with a charge of treason he wasn’t likely to be in with any prison’s general population; as a law enforcement officer he’d have been eaten alive if he had been.  
  
And he wondered what the hell was going on.  Because it was one thing to be mistakenly accused or set up, but another entirely to plead guilty.  He put it down to stress that it took him so long to come up with the answer to that one; a few minutes shy of 0300hrs, he realized that Caldwell had lied to him, trying to trick him into a confession.  And with that his mind cleared a bit and he relaxed enough to grab a quick shower and try to get some sleep.  
  
It was a pretty futile effort, with his mind going round and round the hamster wheel of what the morning would bring for him, and what the hell had happened to Colby.  Colby, who he’d met before the rescue mission that he’d told Caldwell about, but who he’d only known at that point as Hawaii guy of the good blowjob.  
  
Once it crossed his mind he grabbed at the memory, needing something to drown everything else out.  Evan had only been at Schofield briefly but he knew some of the guys from previous postings and they’d dragged him down to the beach on his last night for a party.  It was a hell of a party, from what Evan remembered – far too much alcohol, and bonfires and music and some very drunken dancing, though not from him.  And there was the grunt whose eyes reflected the fire as he stared an instant too long at Evan, and then looked quickly away when he noticed he’d been seen, head ducked down in denial.  Evan couldn’t see him in the flickering firelight as well as he might have liked to, but some things were clear enough: the long clean lines of his body, the military haircut and the chain at his neck, proclaiming dogtags hidden under his t-shirt.  His t-shirt which was nicely fitted and showed off his solidly-muscled body to perfection.  Evan had taken all of that in before looking away.  He’d looked back later and found he was being watched, again.  This time he returned the look for the briefest instant.  
  
A while later he got up and took himself off for a walk into the darkness, along the shoreline.  Even if it came to nothing – and he knew better than that, he’d exchanged too many such looks over the years, looks that said everything and yet nothing – he’d enjoy the sound of the surf in the warm night, and the stars were so bright here, so luminous that he almost itched for a sketch pad.  Far enough away from the party to be safe, but not so far he couldn’t be found, he stopped.  A few minutes later a figure moved through the moonlight towards him, the silhouette of his solid body unmistakable even though he’d only seen it for a few minutes.  
  
The guy stopped, and without a word spoken they went up the beach, away from the sea until the shadow of trees sheltered them from the moonlight’s betrayal.  With nothing more than a ‘You want?’ and a ‘You?’, meaningless words but some sort of ritual acknowledgment was needed, they’d moved close to one another.  The guy’s hand rested for an instant on Evan’s stomach, large and warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, making his muscles quiver in anticipation.  Then his hand slid down and pressed against Evan’s dick through his cargo pants, palm feeling the hard length of him before he opened his fly.  Evan had cut off the noise he wanted to make, cut it off mercilessly out here in the open where sound travelled so well through the night air.  
  
He’d ended up on his back in the sand, looking up at that night sky, as a slick mouth moved on him.  His hips were lifting, it was too good and it had been too long, and his hands were on the other guy’s head, guiding, not demanding, but it turned out he didn’t need to guide because this guy knew – really knew – just how Evan liked it, a hint of a tease but also quick, knowing the risks.  His mouth was hot and wet and his fingers explored Evan’s balls until he pulled off and brought Evan the last bit of the way with his hand.  
  
It had taken him a couple of minutes to recover but the other guy seemed content to wait, settling on the sand fairly close to him and watching him in the near dark.  When Evan opened the guy’s shorts and slid his hand inside, the head of his dick was already wet.  Evan held his hips down – one thing he never liked was having someone shove their dick in his mouth, or having his head jammed down on someone – and took the full length into his mouth.  He could tell by how the guy was shifting under him that  he was loving it but he remained silent.  He’d obviously taken the hint from the way Evan was holding him down and kept his hands to himself, clenching and unclenching in the sand, grains running through his fingers, but then he made a sudden abortive attempt grasp Evan’s hair, to pull him off.  Evan drew back and eased him off with his hands, hearing the gasps that came out of him as he tensed and then relaxed on the sand in front of him.  
  
There’d still been no words as they’d gone their separate ways, Evan heading down the beach, the other guy back towards the fires and the shouts from the party.  No names, no ranks, no serial numbers – the usual drill.  And if Evan had later found himself occasionally comparing others’ techniques to that night, it was to do with the setting – the soft black sky and the warm ocean breeze, so different from the sweat and the fear in Afghanistan.  
  
He hadn’t expected ever to see Hawaii guy again, and Colby liked to needle him about the fact it wasn’t till he saw Colby shirtless on their third meeting that he’d actually recognized him.  Colby hadn’t had the same problem; it seemed Evan had made quite the impression on him.  
  
“That’s because till I saw you I hadn’t known the Air Force had no minimum height requirement,” he’d say whenever Evan got too self-satisfied about that fact.  That was rich given Colby was only a couple of inches taller than him, but it usually led to Evan proving to Colby that it wasn’t size but what you did with it that counted.  Which, on reflection, was probably exactly why Colby said it.  
  
Damn, Colby.  Evan turned over in bed, his heart and his mind racing.  What the hell was going on?  
  


  
He was up and dressed long before the shift change, forgoing his usual morning run because he didn’t want to run the gauntlet of suspicious stares and difficult questions until he knew for certain what was going to happen.  He realized that some people might think he’d been confined to quarters because he hadn’t been out of them since seeing Caldwell, but discretion was the better part of valour right now.  
  
He was rearranging the contents of his drawers for the fifteenth time, making sure everything was ready to be packed at short notice, when the door chime went.  Colonel Sheppard was there, surprising Evan who’d expected to be summoned by radio when the Colonel was ready to see him.  
  
Colonel Sheppard didn’t beat about the bush, a kindness that Evan appreciated.  
  
“You’re reinstated as from now,” he said.  “And none of this goes on your record.”  
  
Evan closed his eyes for the briefest moment, relief a physical sensation blossoming in his chest.  “Thank you, sir,” he said.  
  
“I’d suggest you avoid Colonel Caldwell until he leaves,” Colonel Sheppard continued.  “Rodney was recalibrating the south side of the city’s emergency protocols last night; apparently all those doors opening and closing caused the _Daedalus’s_ proximity alarms to run a little wild through the night.”  
  
Normally Evan would have responded with a suitably solicitous comment about those poor souls who’d been bunking on the _Daedalus_ , but everything was still too raw, too difficult to process.  
  
“Yes, sir,” he said instead.  
  
He got a swift, assessing glance from Colonel Sheppard before his CO unpeeled himself from the doorframe.  “Any time you want to get started, Major, feel free - at least half the _Daedalus’s_ freight seemed to be paperwork intended for my desk.”  He paused.  “Huh.  Maybe Cadman _would_ have been a better choice.”  
  
As Colonel Sheppard ambled off down the corridor, Evan ran his hand across his mouth and found to his horror that he was shaking slightly.  He was under no illusion that, if not for Colonel Sheppard’s dedication to leaving no man behind, he would be on the _Daedalus_ , headed for Earth, a hearing of some description, and a very uncertain future.  
  
  
Once Caldwell had left, late that morning, Evan felt he could almost breathe again.  Almost but not quite, because he was stuck here in the Pegasus galaxy – and this was the first time he’d ever viewed it as being stuck here – and unable to find out anything more about what had happened to Colby.  
  
He went to see Colonel Sheppard that evening even though the Colonel was officially off-duty, which meant he was sprawled out on a stool in one of the labs, annoying Dr McKay.  Not all that much different from being _on_ duty, then.  
  
“Come on in, Lorne,” he said when Evan appeared in the doorway.  “Maybe _you_ can convince Rodney of the advantage of having remote-controlled jumpers in that war against the Wraith we’re having.”  
  
McKay stared at him, his mouth working soundlessly for a blissful instant before his vocal cords apparently caught up with his brain.  “ _You_ said they’d be _cool,”_ he said indignantly.  “Any idiot can see they’d be tactically advantageous, but all you wanted them for was to have one hover with its hatch down so you could knock your precious golf balls into it.”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Sheppard protested.  “Lorne, did you hear me say that?”  
  
Knowing from long and painful experience not to get involved, Evan simply stated his mission.  “I’m due some leave, sir,” he said.  
  
Colonel Sheppard looked at him.  “How long d’you need?”  
  
He shrugged.  “A week, maybe?”  
  
“Make sure Coughlin’s up to speed on everything, and you can go from end of shift tomorrow,” Colonel Sheppard said.  
  
“Oh, just like that?  You do realise that ZPMs are a finite resource and not simply there to enable you to dial Earth every time one of your Marines runs into some sort of hitch in their love life, don’t you, Sheppard?”  
  
“Mc _Kay_.”  
  
Despite his momentarily screwed-shut eyes, Evan could hear the clear warning in Colonel Sheppard’s tone.  
  
“Yes, well, don’t worry about the person who’s going to have to find ways to make restitution for all the power you’re so merrily using,” McKay said, but when Evan dared to open his eyes again he thought McKay looked slightly flustered.  And possibly very slightly shame-faced, which led Evan to the horrible suspicion that he knew about everything and felt _sorry_ for him, like it was all true and Colby had lied to him.  
  
And he was _so_ ignoring the whole ‘love life’ thing because Colonel Sheppard was as well, and there was no way that McKay had any idea - it was just his mouth running away with him as usual.  
  
“Just keep your head down, Lorne,” the Colonel said.  “Spook stuff can get pretty nasty - you don’t want to put yourself in the political firing line if it’s not necessary.”  
  
“Leave no one behind, sir,” Evan said, standing at something perilously close to attention.  
  
Colonel Sheppard had said nothing to that but the look on his face stayed with Evan as he wished them both good night and retreated.  He’d been understanding – and maybe just a little approving – but there was a shadow there which Evan refused to acknowledge because it meant that Sheppard had already made up his mind about Colby.  He’d made up his mind without ever meeting or knowing the man, without knowing the way he’d put his life on the line out in Afghanistan, the way he did every day in LA.  He thought Colby was a traitor.      
  
  
  
Lorne’s shift the next day was surprisingly quiet.  Probably, he thought, because Colonel Sheppard’s team weren’t off-world so there were no unscheduled gate activations followed by drama, mortal peril, or general shenanigans in the gate room.   He took a break from all the admin half way through the morning and wandered over there anyway just to check, the walk giving him a chance to review some of the decisions he’d made the previous night.  
  
While he thought that Homeworld Security would likely trump Homeland Security, he’d decided to head to LA first rather than waste time at Cheyenne Mountain.  He wanted to see Colby, before anything else.  He needed to know he was okay, needed to see that for himself, to hear him even in these circumstances making some sort of smartass comment in that drawl of his, and to find out from him what the hell had happened.  In LA Colby’s team could tell him where Colby was being held and what the hell this was about.  Once he’d gathered the evidence he needed to get Colby cleared, then _that_ would be the time to see what favours he could call in from his time at SGC.  
  
He was jerked from his thoughts by the alarming sight of Dr Weir moving purposefully in his direction.  He turned away casually, making it obvious that he was speaking on his headset, before double-timing it out of there.  Colonel Sheppard’s office would be no sanctuary if she was on the mission that the expression on her face had seemed to indicate, so he ended up deciding to conduct a spot check in the armoury.  There was no such thing as too many spot checks in military life.  
  
He was examining the rocket launchers when Ronon came in.  
  
“Dr Weir’s looking for you,” Ronon said.  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“I think she wants to _talk_ to me.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Ronon had a truly impressive range of grunts, running the gamut from intimidating to interrogative to understanding about Dr Weir’s determination to run an emotionally healthy base here in Atlantis and the need for this to be avoided at all costs.  He took a handful of grenades and disappeared again, and it was testament to the state of Evan’s mind that it took him several minutes to wonder just what the hell Ronon wanted with grenades.  In the end he decided it was probably best not to know.  
  
After a decent amount of time, he risked leaving the shelter of the armoury, figuring that Dr Weir’s attention would have moved onto something more important by now.  It seemed he was right as he spent the rest of the day undisturbed, simply counting the minutes till he could get back to Earth and _do_ something.  Every hour that went by was another hour Colby was sitting in a cell.  The sooner he could get to Earth, the sooner he could start to clear this whole mess up and get Colby freed.  
  


  
***

  
Through the gate and with formalities at that end completed, Evan headed straight for the airport.  He got a standby flight to LAX and got into LA proper after midnight, booking into the first hotel he found that was close to the FBI Headquarters.  
  
Once installed in his room, he fired up his laptop and started a comprehensive search for any news reports, any gossip on conspiracy theorists’ websites, _anything_ that might give him further information on Colby’s situation.  Three hours later, he had nothing to show for his time but tired eyes and an increasing sense of frustration.  There had been headlines about a serving FBI agent being arrested for spying, but with no real information to support the headline - and possibly under political pressure - the story had been dropped quickly.  
  
He’d also googled where Colby might be being held, given the charge against him, but unsurprisingly that came up with nothing.  He’d have to get that information from his team tomorrow.  He needed to see Colby, for Colby to know that he was there and fighting for him, that he hadn’t been abandoned.  He supposed if it came to it he could always recruit Dr Parrish’s botanical kidnappers and send them in to free Colby.  
  
Blinking as that thought registered, he realised he’d fallen asleep where he sat.  Stripping off, he rolled into bed, but no matter how tired he was, sleep just wouldn’t come.  His mind was racing still, going over and over the same old ground with no result to show for it.  It didn’t help that instead of his own bed on Atlantis, with the sound of the ocean soothing him, and the slight hum of the city always in the back of his mind, he was stuck in a stuffy hotel room, with occasional doors banging in the corridor thanks to people without the common decency to think of their fellow guests.  
  
Turning over in bed, he punched the pillow into shape yet again.  The damn king-size was not only uncomfortable but was too big for him on his own.  When he and Colby were together, Colby would always end up wrapped round him by the end of each night.  Colby would take forever to wake up in the morning, but the sleepy smile he’d give on finding Evan in his bed was always more than worth the wait.  Just like seeing Colby each time he was back on Earth was always worth the wait, no matter how long it had been between leave periods.  
  
He remembered the day when he’d realised that Colby was it for him.  He’d come back to Earth, raw after losing both Walker and Stevens – hismen, hisresponsibility, hisfault for not getting them out of there -  and Colby hadn’t asked any questions, had backed off when Evan needed him to and pushed when Evan needed him to but didn’t want him to, had taken the abuse and the rage, and at the end of it all had simply held him.  That was when Evan had known that Colby was his fixed point in the universe, no matter which galaxy he might be in.  Of course he didn’t _say_ any of that – he didn’t want to give the grunt ideas – but he suspected that Colby knew.  
  
And damn it, thinking like this was not bringing sleep any closer at all.  He pulled the pillow over his head to block out the daylight leaking round the edges of the curtains, and tried to remember how it felt to fly a jumper across the surface of the ocean as the sun rose over Atlantis.  It felt unreal and far away and when he finally fell into an uneasy sleep, it was filled with dreams of giant triffids with hair like Colonel Sheppard’s.  
  
  
His alarm woke him, and he was on the bench outside the FBI Headquarters by 0710hrs, having grabbed coffee and a pastry on the way.  He hadn’t been able to remember David’s last name so had decided to take a chance on catching him either entering or leaving the building rather than having to go through Don Eppes, who might have to shut down any conversations for reasons either of protocol or politics.  If he didn’t manage to catch David this way, then he’d go through official channels, but this was definitely worth a try first.  
  
Colby had talked a lot about Megan on his team as well – he seemed to really like her – but again Evan had the last name problem.  And the nagging feeling that he didn’t know if he could trust her.  He didn’t know how this had all happened, but it might not be a simple mistake.  It might be that somebody had deliberately set Colby up.  
  
It was almost midday when he saw a familiar figure in a grey suit cutting through the groups of people on the walkway, on a direct and fast route towards the entrance.  David.  Evan was so relieved at the sight that he could feel his body physically relax as tension drained from him.  At last, somebody who had some actual facts, somebody who knew Colby was innocent and would help.  
  
David came to an abrupt halt as Evan stepped into his way, taking a couple of seconds to place him, unexpected and out of context like this.  Evan was just about to remind him who he was when David nodded in recognition.  “Evan.  What are you doing here?”  
  
“I heard about Colby, so I got leave,” he said.  
  
David’s expression closed down.  “Why?”  
  
Evan shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, not understanding the question.  “What happened, David?” he asked instead.  “How could anybody think that Colby would ever - ”  
  
“Colby Granger is a liar and a traitor,” David spat.  “Anything he said to you – _everything_ he said _–_ it’s all lies.”  
  
Shock paralysed Evan for an instant, and then a rush of hot fury took him.  “What the fuck did you just say?” he snarled, right up in David’s face, the need to attack vibrating through him.  
  
For a moment he thought David was going to go back at him and he wanted him to, needed to put this asshole down _hard._ Instead, David dropped his gaze and took a step back, evidently struggling to control himself.  Evan didn’t move an inch.  He stood there with his gaze narrowed on David’s face, waiting to see just how Colby’s so-called best friend intended to defend himself from the utterly indefensible.  
  
Several deep breaths later David looked back up, his hands spread in front of him in a fruitless attempt at easing the situation.  “Look,” he said, his voice striving for reasonable, “I know you’re a decent guy, you want to believe the best.  But you just have to face it.  Granger played you.  He played all of us.”  
  
“I thought you were his friend,” Evan accused.  
  
David laughed, but it was a harsh, ugly thing, so far from real amusement that it wasn’t worthy of the name.  “Yeah, me too,” he said.  “So much so I went out on a limb for him, stood up for him against Don the first time he lied and covered for Carter.  That could have been my _career,_ man.  And all the time he was lying to me too.”  
  
“DwayneCarter?”  Colby hadn’t mentioned that Carter had been in some sort of run-in with the FBI.  
  
“I knew there was something between them, something more than either of them was saying, but I didn’t know it was _this._  They’ve both been spying for the Chinese. _”_  
  
“That’s a lie.  Colby would never do that and you know it.”  
  
“Yeah?  You want to tell me why I watched him confess, why he told me to my face he’d been lying right from the start?  Why I caught him walking an innocent witness out of the safe house to kill her?  Why he left Megan under fire when he did so?  You tell me that, and _then_ tell me Granger wouldn’t do this.”  He jabbed his finger into Evan’s breastbone, underlining every word that came next in a voice thick with anger.  “Colby Granger’s a goddamn traitor.”  
  
Evan was shaking his head, so close, so damn close to decking this asshole.  “You’re wrong.  You couldn’t be more wrong about him.”  
  
Next thing he knew he was being shoved back against the railings, David’s arm across his throat.  “Don’t you fucking lecture me about Colby Granger,” he gritted out.  “I know what I saw.  I know what he said.”  
  
Evan broke his hold and twisted away, Colonel Sheppard’s order to keep a low profile the only reason this asshole wasn’t on the floor.  “Fuck off,” he said.  “Just _fuck off.”_  
  
He had to get out of there right now if he wasn’t going to end up in trouble with his CO as well as the FBI and probably the local police.  His stride ate up the ground as he put distance between himself and the asshole who Colby thought was his friend, but instead of calming down, every step he took got him more furious.  How the _fuck_ could David _say_ such things?  
  
He finally came back to himself at a busy intersection that he had to wait to cross, and became aware suddenly that he was sweating and breathing heavily, his body’s reaction to the rage he felt.  God, what he’d give for a P-90 in his hands and a Wraith in front of him right now.  
  
Running his hands through his hair he stood there while the light turned green, and then he turned back, not sure where he was on the unfamiliar streets but deciding to find his way back to the hotel because – well, he had nowhere else to go.  There was no point in talking to David, and he knew he had to calm down before speaking to Don Eppes.  It wouldn’t look so good if he managed to avoid punching out one of Colby’s team mates only to take out his boss, and if Eppes so much as hinted at something off about Colby right now he’d probably do it.  
  
He eventually found his way back to the hotel, and didn’t that cap off an absolutely awesome morning – housekeeping were in his room.  He stood in the doorway and held the door open.  “Get out,” he said.  “Please, just get out.”  
  
The maid took one look at him and scuttled out, and on any other day Evan would feel like the biggest prick alive for scaring her, but right now he just couldn’t bring himself to care as he let the door slam behind her.  He grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar, twisted the cap off and drank most of it in a few long swings.  The adrenaline that had fuelled him so far was beginning to ebb, and he ended up sitting down on the unmade bed, staring at the ugliest carpet he had ever seen.  Damn it, Colby – what the _hell?_ What had possessed David to spew out those grotesque charges?  What the _hell_ was going on here?  
  
He needed to talk to Colby.  He desperately needed to talk to Colby.  
  
Calling the FBI office, he asked to be put through to Don Eppes.  And of course, in line with the rest of this spectacularly crappy day, it turned out Don wasn’t available though he would be in the office tomorrow.  It was only his pragmatic nature that stopped Evan from throwing his phone at the wall in frustration – something he’d seen Colby do on more than one occasion and then regret as he’d had to pick up the pieces and go buy a new one, the big idiot that he was.  
  
Evan decided to try Colby’s other friends.  David was out of the question right now, but there was Don’s brother, Charlie.  He was something of a big shot in the academic world according to Colby, which meant he’d be easy to track down.  Sure enough, CalSci’s website gave Evan his office number – but there was no answer on his line.  The same faculty page gave him an Amita, but again there was no answer.  And _damn_ academics, because he called every Laurence on the website but the only one who answered his phone was an administrator and Colby had definitely said that Larry was another professor of some description.  
  
He programmed Charlie Eppes’ and Amita’s numbers into his cell so he could keep trying them, grabbed his keys, and left the hotel.  He knew the approximate route from the FBI Headquarters to Colby’s apartment but he also knew it was several miles, so he hailed a cab.  Maybe he could run part of the way back because he could feel how much his body needed to let out some of this energy, to settle him  
  
When he let himself in to Colby’s apartment, he was unprepared for what met him.  The smell of spoiled food hung heavy in the air and Colby’s clean and somewhat spartan apartment looked like a cyclone had gone through it.  The contents of drawers were all over the floor, the couch cushions had been cut open and left with stuffing spilling out, base boards had been levered away from the walls and light fittings dismantled.  There was also an odd residue over most surfaces, which Evan finally figured out must be fingerprint powder.  
  
Wrinkling his nose against the smell, he set about systematically exploring the place.  He didn’t know what he might find, but he knew Colby Granger better than anyone else alive and if there was something here that might be a clue, he’d recognise it as such even if it was meaningless to everyone else.  Yeah, great idea if only there’d been anything left to look through.  There wasn’t a scrap of paperwork left in the place – even any skin rags Colby might have had were gone – as were all his DVDs and CDs, plus the various photos he’d had around the place and of course his computer.  The bedroom was just as much a mess as the living room, the bedding stripped off and the mattress obviously slit open to be searched, leaving only Colby’s surfboard propped in one corner and his clothes hanging in his closet.  And at the sight of his clothes hanging forlornly, those hideously ugly suits that he used to wear to work until he realised Don wasn’t bothered about dress code and which he still hadn’t donated to Goodwill despite Evan’s best efforts, Evan felt it like a punch in the chest.  He ended up burying his face in one of Colby’s shirts, the scent of the detergent he used so familiar.  Colby was gone.  This was real.    
  
And he was not going to freak out.  Not for more than a minute, anyway.  Okay, then – sitting room clear, bathroom and bedroom clear.  Thank God they hadn’t damaged his surfboard; that was one loss Evan didn’t think Colby would ever get over.  Who’d have thought that a guy from Idaho would turn out to be such a passionate surfer.  Evan often went with him - what adrenaline junkie _wouldn’t_ love the power in the wave when you caught it just right – but he wouldn’t particularly miss it if he stopped.  He might miss it if Colby stopped surfing, though; it seemed like it was about the best foreplay Colby could get, if the really good sex they had every single time they got back from the beach was anything to go by.  Evan always ended up pinned down on Colby’s bed as Colby fucked into him, intense and focused in a way that turned Evan on to a ridiculous extent.  
  
Drawing a breath, he made his way to the kitchen, finding that along with other appliances, the plug to the fridge had been taken apart, which was what had resulted in the ruined food.  Grabbing a trash bag from where they’d been left on the counter, Evan tipped all the food into it and left it by the front door, ready for him to take out to the garbage with him.  
  
And that really was it.  There wasn’t a thing here that told Evan anything that might have been going on with Colby since he’d last been on leave.  He picked up the trash bag and closed the apartment door behind him, trying to focus on what he had to do next rather than giving in to the feeling of failure that was swirling dangerously close.  
  
“Young man!”  
  
He started and turned round to find an elderly lady, her grey hair set and styled immaculately, using a cane to make her determined way towards him, eyes as sharp as her voice had been, and looking like she was on a mission.  
  
“Ma’am?”  He put on his best Academy-groomed manners, trying to ignore the smelly plastic bag in his right hand.  
  
“What are you doing in that apartment?  That’s Colby Granger’s apartment.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.  I’m a friend of his.”  
  
“Really?”  

 

He found himself almost at attention as he was subjected to the sort of penetrating scrutiny that any one of his COs would have been proud to own.  
  
“Hmm,” she said eventually, and he guessed he’d passed inspection.  
  
“What’s happened to Colby?” she asked next.  “There were police here taking things out of his apartment and they were extremely rude.  They said there was nothing for us to worry about but there were people in coveralls and masks and you know how it is these days, with the terrorist threat.  It’s been such a worry.”  
  
He nodded slightly as she spoke, and once there was a momentary pause he leapt in, worried it might be the last chance he’d get for a while.  “He’s all right,” he said, “There’s just been a bit of a mix-up.  He’ll be back soon.”  
  
“Oh, good,” she said.  “He’s a nice young man, always so polite, even if he is a bit careless about the way that surfboard of his leaves sand in the hallway.  He’s been better about that since I brought to his attention, though.”  She leaned in and put her hand on his forearm, unexpected strength in her grip and sincerity in her blue eyes as she looked up at him.  “You tell him from me that we’ll be pleased to see this mix-up sorted and have him back,” she said.  
  
He nodded, his throat suddenly tight.  
  
“You tell him, Mrs Clark from 21B,” she repeated, and squeezed his arm before releasing him to continue on her way.  
  
Evan dumped the sack in the garbage and, rethinking his idea about running back to the hotel, flagged down a cab.  Better to get changed into proper gym clothes and go for a real workout in the gym than try to navigate sidewalks and evening rush hour traffic.  And that’s exactly what he did when he got back to the hotel, spent a good two hours working out harder than he’d done for some time, and that was saying something when his very survival in Pegasus depended so often on his physical fitness.  
  
By the time he got back to his room he realised that he’d possibly overdone it because his muscles were shaking as he sat down on the bed and thought about taking a shower.  He called down for room service; even though nothing on the menu appealed he had to eat something.  And then he lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling which could do with a lick of paint here and there, and the thoughts that had been held at bay so successfully all day started crashing in, David’s wild accusations playing over and over in his head until he got up and opened some wine from the mini-bar to drown them out.  
  
He wasn’t stupid.  Nobody who got to go to Atlantis was stupid.  He could work this through, just like any other problem.  
  
Exhibit one: Colby Granger.  There hadn’t been one single action in all the years they’d been together that would cause him to doubt Colby’s loyalty or his integrity.  He had the whole duty and honour thing so internalised it was probably engraved on his spine.  The only time he’d ever seriously disobeyed or deceived anybody was to do with the whole having gay sex while in the army thing, and that didn’t count.  
  
He remembered the first time it had been more than a quick hand job where they wouldn’t get caught.  Colby, recently discharged and looking oddly bereft in civvies, had visited Evan in Colorado when he was still newly posted to SGC.  That first night, they’d gone out to get something to eat and then gone back to Colby’s hotel room, a sixpack under Evan’s arm so it was clear it was just a couple of guys kicking back, catching up on old times.  Evan wasn’t sure that it would be anything more than that, though he’d hoped – oh God, he’d hoped, with memories of Hawaii in mind – but then Colby had made a move, looking bashful and uncertain, even blushing slightly, as he’d leaned in and kissed Evan for the first time.  That whole shy farm-boy thing hadn’t lasted beyond them getting their clothes off; although Colby hadn’t seemed that experienced at anything more than blowjobs, he was _very_ enthusiastic.  And Evan had always been a good teacher  
  
He wrenched his thoughts back to the matter at hand.  So far, so good.  But David had said he’d _heard_ Colby confess, not simply been told about it after the alleged event.  So unless David was insane, which probably would have been picked up by the FBI before now, or involved in some sort of conspiracy to set Colby up – and no matter how attractive that option might sound, the anger in his voice at what he saw as Colby’s betrayal had been _real –_ that meant that Colby had confessed.  Which in turn meant there had to be something else going on here.  
  
And that left Carter.  Dwayne fucking Carter, the fly in the ointment for as long as Evan could remember, with his creepy claims on Colby.  Colby had never really learned how to deal with Carter -  some sort of misplaced guilt and gratitude, Evan thought - and he was pretty sure that some things had gone on between them in Afghanistan that Colby had never told Evan about.  
  
What if Carter had somehow fooled Colby into doing something wrong?  That would explain why Colby had confessed, doubtless eaten up with guilt once he realised what he’d done.  
  
There was a knock on the door, and Evan opened it to let room service in, belatedly realising he was in t-shirt and shorts that were still damp from his workout.  He gave the guy a handsome tip as apology and sat down to steak and fries, opening another of the small bottles of wine from the fridge.  All that combat pay he got for being on Atlantis had to be spent somehow, after all.  And he was feeling a bit easier now he knew what was going on.  Not a whole lot easier, because he had the feeling that even lack of intent might not be enough to clear Colby completely, but it had to count for something, surely, if Colby hadn’t known what he was doing?  
  
He’d finished his meal and was in the shower when it hit him.  If Colby had been tricked into it, why hadn’t David known that?  Colby sure as hell wouldn’t have protected Carter if he thought he’d betrayed his country.  And just like that, everything started up in his head again, David’s ugly statements about what had happened at the safe house, about Colby having lied for Carter once before, until he had to rest his pounding head against the tiles as the water beat down on him.  
  
He was drying himself off with the towel – so much softer and fluffier than military issue but he was too tense now to enjoy the feel of it against his wet skin - when an unwelcome thought slithered to join the chorus inside his head.  That time in Colorado Springs… Colby had suggested the visit the day after Evan had received his Top Secret clearance.  He remembered it clearly because he’d been full of excitement at what it opened up for him at SGC, and then Colby was suddenly coming to see him and he hadn’t been able to tell him about it.  And from the moment Colby had made his move that night, he’d become a fixture in Evan’s life, with open access to his apartment, his computer, his phone, and _everything._ With the added benefit that nobody else knew that little fact because of DADT.  He doubled over, thinking for an instant he was going to throw up, and then he fought it back, because he _knew_ Colby.  Damn David and damn Caldwell – they were _not_ going to get him to think like they did.  
  
He sat down on the end of the bed, feeling suddenly helpless and not liking that feeling at _all_.  There was nothing he could do for at least another seven hours.  He decided that the minibar was his only hope of stopping the thoughts and getting any sleep that night, so he laid siege to it with a dedication that he was sure Colonel Sheppard would have encouraged in any other context.    
  
It turned out it might not have been one of his better ideas, because he ended up sitting in the dark with his head in his hands, thinking about Colby and trying not to cry.

  
***  
  


Don Eppes had agreed to see him at 1000hrs.  Evan knew he shouldn’t be in uniform because he wasn’t there in an official capacity but damn it, he wanted every bit of respect his service deserved – and Colby’s too, service which had been forgotten by everyone, it seemed.  
  
He reported in at Reception.  “Major Evan Lorne, here to see Special Agent Don Eppes.”  
  
Instead of being told to go up to the office as he’d expected, he was told to take a seat in the lobby and wait.  When Don Eppes strode out of the elevator, Evan got another shock, because the man who came to meet him looked as if he’d aged ten years since Evan last saw him.  The friendly and relaxed guy they’d gone out for a beer with now had grimness etched into every line of his face.  
  
He took Evan’s outstretched hand with a brief greeting, and then he gestured to Evan to go outside, into the bright morning sunshine.  Evan got it – another of Colby’s buddies from the Services was the last person they’d trust in their precious FBI Headquarters.  He almost wanted to laugh when he thought of the secrets that the country entrusted him with.  Either laugh or walk away from the self-important ass who thought he might report back to somebody on the number of paperclips on his desk.  But he bit it down because this was for Colby, and he found himself standing next to the railings again, only feet from where he’d been with David the day before.  
  
“You wanted to see me?”  
  
“Colby.  What happened _?”_  
  
“You tell me,” Eppes said, and made it sound like an accusation.  
  
The bastard had slid his shades on so he couldn’t see his eyes.  He just had to hope that he was as good a man as Colby had thought he was.  
  
“What _happened_?”  Evan demanded again.  “David said he confessed.”  
  
Evan didn’t know what had shown on his face or had come through in his voice but Eppes pulled his shades away from his eyes and looked at him for a long minute.  And then he told him about some mad ex-spy and lists of double agents, and it was all crazy, it was all a set-up job, and Evan said as much.  
  
“He confessed to everything,” Don said.  
  
“But look, if Carter was involved, if Carter was getting him to do things, then maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing.  Maybe he had no choice.”  And God, Evan had sounded about as clear as Dr McKay talking about nanite technology.  
  
But Eppes had got what he meant.  “Colby gave Carter up,” he said.  “If he’d been under duress, there’d have been no reason not to tell us so.”  
  
“But – ”  
  
“Evan,” Don said quietly, halting him.  And then he told him about Colby’s confession.  About how he’d sat there and calmly told Don everything, confessed everything he’d done in full knowledge of what he was doing, as if he didn’t care any more.  As if he never had really cared.  
  
Evan swallowed.  This was wrong.  This was so, so wrong.  Looking at Eppes, he could see there was something there, some lingering sense of doubt behind the professional mask, he knew it.  
  
“Look,” he said, “Colby’s trained in interrogation.  Trained in counter-interrogation techniques, for God’s sake.  You really think he’s just going to roll over for you within the first hour?  And no offence, Don, but for _you_ , not somebody who’s going to strap electrodes to him?  There’s something wrong here, you know it.”  
  
“Such as?”  Don asked.  “We had the Janus List, SID were going to take his apartment apart and he knew damn well what they’d find, and there was what happened at the safe house in front of us all.  His guilt was apparent and he had nothing to gain by denying it any longer.”  He paused and then sighed slightly.  “Megan thought he just couldn’t cope with lying to us any more and that’s why he confessed so quickly, but if he felt like that about us he’d never have done it, right?”  
  
“It’s not _Colby_ ,” Evan said at last.  It’s been what he wanted to tell everyone, to yell at them ever since he’d first heard, but David had been too filled with anger to listen, and nobody else until now had known Colby.  Nobody else would have got it like this man might.  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Don admitted, “But then why would he confess?”  
  
His question hung there between them, and there was only one possible answer.  
  
Evan looked Don in the eyes, noticing how weary he looked.  “Do you really believe that Colby’s guilty?” he asked.  
  
“That’s what the evidence tells me.  That’s what Colby tells me.  There’s no other option.”  Don’s voice was heavy with regret but contained no hint of a doubt, and his eyes gave the same message.  He straightened from where he’d ended up leaning against the railing and pushed his shades back up to cover his eyes.  “Sorry you’ve had a wasted trip, Major Lorne,” he said.  “I can’t help you any further.”  
  
“Where’s he being held?” Evan asked.  “I want to see him.”  
  
And _shit,_ the sympathy being suddenly telegraphed by Don Eppes’s face meant whatever was coming was not going to be good news.  
  
“You’d need to be on his list of approved visitors to be allowed to visit him.  I made some enquiries after you called me earlier,” Don said, and then hesitated for the briefest instant.  “Colby hasn’t put you on his list.”  
  
It felt like Ronon had punched him in the gut, sudden pain seizing his breath and a reflexive wetness in his eyes as he stared blindly out at the city in front of him.  Goddamned LA – he hated this fucking city.  It was everything Atlantis wasn’t.  There, everything was clear.  The chances were high that on any given day you’d be dead by dinnertime but at last you’d have gotten to fly spaceships and walk the surfaces of unimaginable planets.  Here, everything was murky and dirty.  
  
He had no idea how long he stood there before Don put a hand briefly on his shoulder.  
  
“Listen,” Don said, “We sent all his stuff to Quantico for them to go through but I checked his wallet first because –” he hesitated.  “He used to keep a photo there and I didn’t think they needed to know it was from his wallet, they could think it was just from his desk, like his other army buddy photos, you know?  But it wasn’t there.  I thought you should know there won’t be any questions about it.”  
  
Evan was so emotionally punch-drunk he could scarcely even feel grateful to Don for trying to save his career.  Operating on automatic pilot he shook Don’s hand, but he didn’t say anything - he couldn’t trust his voice for the tightness in his throat.  Don nodded briefly back, eyes still hidden behind those shades, before he walked back towards the offices.  
  
Evan went in the opposite direction, heading blindly back towards his hotel because he had nowhere else and he was damned if he’d stay for one moment longer where Colby’s colleagues had systematically shredded his belief in the man he’d thought he’d known.  
  
He couldn’t believe he’d been so wrong about Colby.  He just couldn’t.  But no matter what Dr McKay’s view of him might be, Evan really wasn’t that stupid.  He knew all about pride and denial and, having served in more than one combat zone, he also knew how people in the face of certain disaster would cling to baseless hope rather than face an unacceptable reality.  
  
He let himself into his hotel room, and started to cram his stuff into his kitbag.  Colby didn’t want to see him.  Maybe he couldn’t face Evan, knowing what he’d done, but that sounded pretty unlikely from the way Don had said he’d been when he confessed, not a shred of shame in him.  Which left only one other possible explanation.  And that was that, all this time, Evan had been nothing more than one of his marks.  
  
That photo was one Colby had kept it in his wallet ever since it had been taken, their first weekend in Colorado Springs.  Or at least that was what Evan had thought.  Maybe it had only been there when Evan was around and might see it.  Or maybe, in some belated, half-hearted attempt at decency, Colby had removed it if he’d seen his arrest coming.  Either way, it didn’t really matter now.  
  
He’d never trusted anyone the way he’d trusted Colby Granger.  And he was not going to think about that as he finished packing so he could check out and head back to Atlantis.  Home.  
  
At least there the things that were going to kill you were honest about it and death was quick, not this lingering poisonous death from lies that had fallen so sweetly on his skin, and betrayal that had dressed itself as love.  
  
He picked up his bag, took some bottles from the restocked mini bar for the journey, and left.  He didn’t look back.

 

***

Four weeks later, Colonel Sheppard came to find him as he was working diligently in Colonel Sheppard’s office – and yes, he did appreciate the irony of it being known as Colonel Sheppard’s office even though the Colonel was one of its more occasional visitors.  
  
“I just heard from Colonel Caldwell,” the Colonel said.  
  
“I’m sure that was gratifying for you both, sir,” Evan replied, his eyes on his screen as he finalised the following week’s duty roster.  
  
The quality of Colonel Sheppard’s answering silence caused him to raise his head and look at his CO.  His expression was serious, which was in itself unusual enough for Evan to sit up and take notice.  
  
“Seems he’s been tracking developments since his last visit,” Colonel Sheppard said.  “He wanted me to know that Agent Granger has been cleared of all charges.  It turns out he was acting as a triple agent on behalf of the US against China, and his getting caught was part of the plan.”  
  
Evan would have said something, except he was so frozen that even his lips weren’t capable of movement as he stared at Colonel Sheppard.  
  
“I thought you should know,” the Colonel said.  He turned away, pausing just long enough to add, “You’ve still got some leave due if you want.”  
  
Evan was finding it difficult to breathe, to tell which way was up as the doors slid shut behind Colonel Sheppard.  Colby was innocent.  He’d been right.   
  
After a while, he became aware there were spots dancing in front of his eyes and he realised that was probably because of the way he was digging the heels of his hands into them.  
  
Colby was innocent.  He should be overjoyed, but all he felt was sick.   
  
He was glad that Colby’s name was cleared.  Glad that, in that at least, he hadn’t been mistaken in the man.  But the rest - how could he ever know what, if anything, had been real between them, and what had been Colby running a military asset with Top Secret clearance to maintain his cover with the Chinese?   
  
And now he thought about it, it said everything that the news had come via Colonel Sheppard, not from Colby himself.  If positions had been reversed, if he’d had to keep a secret of that magnitude from Colby, the first thing he’d have done on being free of that burden would have been to talk to Colby about it.  Even if he couldn’t say much because of the military censors who checked every last punctuation mark of their comms into and out of Atlantis, he’d have made contact.  But there’d been nothing from Colby in his email inbox when today’s data burst, presumably including Caldwell’s message, had come through.  That made things painfully clear.  
  
He focused back on the screen in front of him, and bent his mind back to ensuring that there were enough experienced people on duty with the rookies to guarantee security wasn’t compromised while the rookies started to familiarise themselves with the varied and bizarre range of threats that Atlantis faced along with Wraith, Replicators, and Dr McKay’s tendency to experiment with unfamiliar Ancient tech before taking suitable safety precautions.  This is what he did.  This is who he was.  And that would have to be enough for him.  Maybe he’d lost sight of that for a while, hanging his hopes and his future on something that hadn’t even existed.  But no more.  He was going to be the best damn XO Colonel Sheppard had ever had.  
  
He started to prove that by scheduling the next five weeks’ worth of duty rosters rather than the usual one week, before going off duty.   
  
The next day, he took the time to get to know Dr Lindsay a little before they stepped through the gate, his team taking their turn babysitting her.  Colonel Sheppard hadn’t gotten to know all the scientists well, something to do with his friendship with Dr McKay terrifying them, Evan thought, but having a military assessment of their strengths and weaknesses could be the difference between mission success and failure.  It was knowledge he could gather for Colonel Sheppard.He chatted to the doc as they made their way to the village for her weekly visit, and found she had a sharp sense of humour, one that only needed a little encouragement to come out.  She was enthusiastic about being here,  not suffering from offworld nerves as some of the scientists did, though in common with many of them she did seem to be somewhat lacking in situational awareness.  
  
When the gunfire started, his second order – after commanding his team to return fire – was to get her back to the gate and safety.   
  
This is who he was.  This is what he did. 

 

 

 


End file.
